“Okay, okay, it’s what?! Just stop yelling, I’m really trying to understand,” she pleads, her voice cracking.
“This isn’t a sleepaway camp, Mom! Do you know that there are bars on the windows? Like we can’t open them for fresh air? And we wear uniforms like criminals? We can’t even go to the bathroom without someone taking us. This isJ-A-I-L, Mom. Jail.”
I hear sniffling and it takes me by surprise. I don’t know how my mom has deluded herself about where I’ve been all this time, but I can feel that my outburst might have broken through.
“Jesus. I didn’t know there were bars. Jasmine, that’s… that’s not what I imagined. I knew it was strict but bars, my god,” she says softly.
I feel my heart twinge in my chest. It’s the first time she’s seemed really moved by where I am, and yet her helplessness makes me want to cry—whether from frustration or anger, I’m not sure.I’mthe one in here, but she’s the one crying.
The door to the office opens and I hang up before I make things worse. I don’t think I can calm down right now.
Dr. Rose looks at me but says nothing. She turns the phone around. “Someone will be here to escort you to your unit in a few minutes,” she says, handing me a tissue and a small bottle of water. “Do you want to talk about your call?”
I open the water and sip it through sobs. “No.” I shove my chair back and walk out of the office.
I don’t want to talk to anyone else. I want to cry alone.
8
The class erupts in cheers and whispers as Ms. Taylor drops our graded interview drafts on our desks.
“What did you get?” Deanna turns from the seat in front of me.
I show her my A.
“Nice! I got an A, too.” I put my hand up for a high five, and she slaps it. “You want to read mine?”
I shake my head. “Not until the end.” I laugh.
It’s been a couple of weeks since our interviews, and I worked pretty hard on the first draft. I considered inviting Deanna over to work on it together, but Kayla is still icing me out and I don’t want to push my luck. I’ve just been keeping my head down like I said I would. Pantry for breakfast, library for lunch—rinse and repeat.
Every so often, when I’m feeling lonely, I open up Amari’s email and stare at the words until my vision starts to swim.
I can’t wait to see you.
Of course, I want to see her too. But her release date still feels like a distant thing, impossibly far off. And I have no idea how I’ll manage to see her once she’s out. I promise myself that when I’m more settled here, I’ll figure out how to respond in away that conveys my feelings but doesn’t overpromise what I’m able to do or be for her.
“Settle down, class,” Ms. Taylor says. “I know you’re excited.”
I glance at Alice to see if she’s happy about her grade, but she’s on her phone.
“I’m so inspired by how well you all did on the first part of this assignment. For this next part, I want you to take a look at the notes I’ve made and try revising your work.”
Everyone is flipping through their pages to see what notes they’ve received. My first one reads:How do you want us to feel about your subject?
I look back at Ms. Taylor, who is smiling at our reactions.
“You’ll do this part solo and it’ll be due… let’s say, next Friday.” The bell rings. “Of course, if you have questions, you know where to find me,” she adds loudly over the bell. “Have a great weekend!
“Can I speak with you for a moment, Jasmine?” Ms. Taylor calls out from the front of the room.
Deanna, who is waiting for me at the door, waves goodbye with a curious look on her face.I’ll text you, she mouths while holding up her phone.
I nod and give her a thumbs-up, hoping she will.
When I get to Ms. Taylor’s desk, the room has emptied out. “Am I in trouble?” I ask. I wonder if she’s seen me eating granola bars in class.
She laughs and takes a sip from her thermos. “Of course you’re not in trouble,” she says. I relax my shoulders and take a deep breath. “I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed your writing. You’re very talented.”
